CHAPTER 1: THE WORST DRIFTSPIRE
Year: 2052
New Toronto was easily the worst of all the Driftspires—or so Darius Locke thought. He’d never actually been to any of the others, but he couldn’t imagine they’d be much worse. Living along the outer coast of the spire, where the constant threat of Breacher attacks loomed over everything, didn’t exactly inspire confidence. But then, that was part of why his mother could afford to live there: anything coastal in the Driftspires was cheaper and infinitely more dangerous.
Still, Darius took comfort in one hard fact—a Breacher had never successfully reached this Driftspire. Thanks to the open ocean separating the spires from the mainland, the hulking creatures couldn’t simply walk over. Besides, the more mobile a Breacher, the more fragile it tended to be. Brute-type Breachers were far too heavy to swim, and even the flying Breachers—the “fliers”—were light enough that they could usually be taken down by small Guardian teams before they reached the cities.
But for Darius, obsessed as he was with Breacher biology and behaviors, this knowledge was cold comfort. He’d noticed a disturbing trend: the fliers were getting bigger, and the heavy Breachers were adapting, slowly venturing further into the depths. He didn’t understand how such drastic changes could happen so quickly; evolution like that should take millions of years. But nothing about the Breachers ever seemed to follow nature’s rules.
He shook the thought off with a sigh. At least here, even the poorest could afford reasonable shelter on the coast. His mother, for instance, worked as a storekeeper in a dive suit shop—a popular hobby for Driftspire residents who wanted to explore the eerie ecosystems that had sprung up beneath the floating cities. She made decent money, but it wasn’t enough to move them inland to one of the more protected communities.
Still, Darius loved his life here. He had friends, plenty of material on the Guardians to research, and endless records on empowered individuals to pore over. His room was a shrine to his passions. The walls were stark and white, broken only by a recessed, paper-thin TV that was rarely turned off and a cluttered desk covered in electronic notes about past Breacher attacks. Above his desk, his prize possession hung—a pinup poster of Phase in her crimson costume, standing victoriously over the body of a downed Breacher.
To anyone else, the poster probably looked like just another adolescent indulgence: a beautiful woman posed against a powerful backdrop dressed in a provocative costume. But for Darius, it was a piece of history. Phase and her team, the Vancouver Five, had been the first of the new generation of Guardians to kill a Breacher, and not a small one either. They’d taken down a Leviathan-class Breacher, a 70-foot horror with dozens of eyes and sprawling tentacles. It was a historic victory, and the monster in that poster had haunted his nightmares ever since.
He glanced at a large mirror his mother had helped him set up in the corner of his room. In the upper corner of the glass, a small screen displayed the time, weather, and a headline: “Windrazor Breacher Spotted Off London’s Coast.” He made a mental note to look up more details later. The clock read 8:13 AM. “Cutting it close today,” he muttered, haphazardly combing his sandy-blonde hair into some semblance of order. He tugged on a thermal insulative suit and layered a sweater and cargo pants over it, a familiar routine he could almost do in his sleep. He quickly brushed his teeth and whispered goodbye to his mom who was sleeping off a mild illness. His mom always seemed to come down with something close to the anniversary of his fathers death. Deep down, Darius doesn’t know if she ever fully recovered after the accident. He didn’t have time to think about it though as he rushed towards the elevator at the end of the hall hoping he’d make it to school on time.
Darius arrived three minutes late for history, one of his favorite classes. He slipped into the room with an apologetic look at his teacher, Mr. Peitros, a stocky, good-natured Russian man with a booming voice. Mr. Peitros greeted him with a warm nod.
“Ah, Darius, we missed you,” he declared with a grin, a thick accent adding weight to every word. “You arrive just in time for today’s gossip—your favorite, the Breachers.”
Darius perked up immediately. “Oh?” he replied, barely containing his excitement.
Mr. Peitros, always animated when he lectured, moved to the front, knocking his wooden desk slightly, sending a loud scrape across the floor. “Susan, could you repeat what you were telling Kai earlier? I think Darius would appreciate it.”
Susan, flicking her sleek black hair back with an air of impatience, sighed dramatically. “My dad—he works with the Guardians, by the way,” she added with a smug grin as if she hadn’t boasted this detail damn near daily, “heard that the Windrazor spotted off the European coast last night is the largest flier ever recorded.”
She emphasized “ever” like it was nothing, but Darius’ mind was already reeling. The largest recorded flier previously was a Veilwing in 2035, a Breacher known for its stealth rather than strength, but it had still managed to kill over 2,000 people when it attacked New Winnipeg’s coastal district marking the first ever successful Driftspire attack by a Breacher.. A Windrazor that size was a whole other nightmare.
“What direction was it heading? Do they know its armor classification?” he blurted out, leaning forward.
Susan rolled her eyes. “Who cares about ‘armor classification,’ nerd? All I know is it was huge and flying. I’m sure the Guardians will let everyone else know when it matters.” She turned back dismissively, a slight smirk on her face.
Mr. Peitros frowned but pressed on, launching into a lecture on the early 2010s global fishing moratorium and its impact on the fish farming industry, which led to a boom in tilapia and salmon farming. Darius tried to pay attention, though his mind drifted to thoughts of the colossal Windrazor, somewhere out there, its destination unknown.
Mr. Peitros went on to explain that humanity had created vast algae beds on the ocean’s surface. These served as both a carbon sink, countering the toxic gasses flowing from the rifts, and as a major oxygen source, compensating for the destruction of Earth’s forests by roaming Breachers. As class ended, Mr. Peitros assigned them to read the chapter on Fulcrum and the materials sourcing for the Driftspires, including the unintended ecological impacts. Darius had already read it but felt a renewed eagerness to review the information.
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The day passed quickly, with math blending into physics and then mechanics. In math, he sat with his friends Aaron and Cole and did his best to keep up as they tackled surface integrals and Green’s theorem, though he knew he’d need to study harder if he wanted to pass. When they were given free time to work on assignments, they naturally drifted to chatting.
“Did you guys see the trailer for Guardians Arise 3?” Cole whispered excitedly. “They’re saying you can customize powers to be anything you want!”
“They said that last time, man. They just want people to pre-order.” Aaron scoffed.
“Neg all you want, bro. Just because you didn’t get powers doesn’t mean the game won’t be sick,” Cole shot back.
Aaron rolled his eyes. “Hey, I still could, you know.”
“Sure, keep dreaming,” Cole smirked.
“Guys, come on. I saw the trailer too, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get it anyway. They’re only releasing it on next-gen consoles,” Darius said, trying to mask his disappointment.
“Just ask your parents to get it for you, man,” Aaron replied absently, then instantly looked regretful.
Darius forced a smile. “Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s been a long time since Dad passed.” He brushed off the comment, not wanting to dive into the grief that never quite left him.
The school day wrapped up quickly after that. Darius said a quick goodbye to his friends, promising to see them later at dive club or online. Darius wound his way through the streets of New Toronto, passing by familiar landmarks that felt as close to home as his own apartment. He slowed as he approached the VR arcade, its holographic sign flickering with the promise of new adventures he could barely afford, and Chang’s Best Chinese, a family staple. The bright red neon lettering, a little too bold, had always been a joke between him and his mom. They called it “obvious advertising,” but had to admit, Chang wasn’t lying—the food was the best.
At this hour, 4:00 PM, the city was awash in neon light, painting the narrow walkways in vivid hues of purple and electric blue. New Toronto had banned cars long ago, the city relying instead on the underground rail network and short-range teleporters to transport residents across the sprawling floating metropolis. Workers in durable, salt-streaked uniforms scrubbed at the briny residue that clung to every metal surface, a never-ending battle against the ocean’s slow, corrosive embrace. A modest waterway was carved into the center of each street, a canal for shipments to come through and for people to boat down. The water always threw off the most beautiful reflections of the neon lights. Especially once the sun went down.
Most people despised the Driftspire’s noise and bustle, the unending stream of voices, footsteps, and music bleeding out of every shop and window. But Darius loved it—the constant hum of life was his comfort, a reminder that no matter what, he was never truly alone. His mom had a saying about it: “How can you feel lonely when you look out at all this?” She meant it as reassurance, but Darius knew that for her, it wasn’t entirely true. On certain nights, he’d hear her soft crying through the thin apartment walls, those words taking on a hollow ring.
For him, though, they held meaning. As long as he could see people wandering past his window, laughing or going about their lives, he felt a little safer. Even the shadowed corners where trouble often lurked—small knots of druggies and occasional fights breaking out—couldn’t shake that feeling.
As he neared his apartment, Darius ducked into Bris’ Supply, the general store a few blocks from his building. He pulled out his mom’s grocery list, warily scanning the items. Judging from her ingredients, it looked like they’d be having fish curry. He began picking out ingredients, his mind drifting to school, the Windrazor news, and then a faint glimmer of excitement for Guardians Arise 3. He paused, glancing up at the TV in the corner of the store, its screen lit up with bright red letters.
“Breaking News: Record-Breaking Windrazor Breacher Spotted off Coast. Trackers Lose Sight. Officials Unsure if Heading for a Driftspire or an Island. More to Follow.”
Darius’ pulse quickened, his skin prickling with cold. He forced himself to breathe, reminded himself that New Winnipeg was the closest Driftspire to Europe, while New Toronto was much farther off—though he couldn’t ignore the fact that his family lived on the spire’s most exposed, coastal edge. Hastily, he collected the last of his groceries, paid, and made his way back home, anxious to hear more details.
His worry lessened when he arrived to find his mom already dicing onions and garlic in their narrow kitchen. She turned, catching his relieved expression.
“Hey, Mom. How are you feeling?” he asked, setting the groceries on the counter.
“Not too bad, not too bad, sunny boy,” she said with a soft smile and a slight lie in her tone. “How’s my most handsome son doing?”
“I’m your only son, Mom, that’s not the compliment you think it is,” he replied, feigning exasperation.
“That you know of, that is.” Her smile grew mischievous, and for a moment, Darius saw a glimmer of the woman she’d been before his dad had passed—the fierce, unshakeable woman who wouldn’t take nonsense from anyone. Darius’ own smile faltered.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked, her hand squeezing his shoulder gently.
“I miss him, Mom,” he said quietly, his voice thick with the effort of holding back tears.
She wrapped him in a hug, her petite frame feeling as strong and grounding as ever. “I know you do, honey. So do I.” She held him for a moment longer, and though her head barely reached his chest, she felt larger than life to him.
They shared a quiet moment, then wordlessly turned to start cooking together. They chatted as they prepared dinner, Darius telling her about his day, about the new video game he couldn’t afford. She offered to buy it for him, her tone lighthearted but insistent. He lied, saying it didn’t look all that great, but her knowing look told him she saw through the fib. Neither pushed the conversation further.
They ate quickly, Darius savoring the rich, spicy fish curry, the warmth of the meal a small respite from everything else weighing on him. As he cleared his plate, he muttered something about homework and gaming, grateful to slip away to his room. She smiled at him as he left, telling him to call if he needed anything.
Once he was alone, Darius closed his door and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath. Outside, the city hummed with life, its neon lights casting a faint glow through his window. Somewhere, far off in the depths of the ocean or maybe closer than he knew, a Windrazor was loose, its trajectory unknown. Darius clenched his fists, an unsettling thrill mixing with the lingering ache in his chest.
Tomorrow, he’d throw himself into his studies again but tonight he was going to lose himself in his Breacher research, and try not to think about anniversaries or what he’d lost. He was still here, after all, and as long as New Toronto’s lights burned and its streets stayed busy, maybe—just maybe—that would be enough to keep him going.